


you look so cool

by provocation



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Comfort Food, Concussions, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, don't ask me what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6639109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provocation/pseuds/provocation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he'd take a quick nap before the cops arrived. Just two minutes, then he'd go. <br/>"Hey," a voice said, jerking Eugene back into nauseating, loud reality. <br/>He really, really hoped that voice didn't belong to who he thought it belonged to.<br/>"Hey, Spidey," the voice said again, and Eugene opened his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you look so cool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohwhatanight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatanight/gifts).



> I have no explanation. Enjoy.

Eugene slid down the brick wall until he was sitting on the cold ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest, closed his eyes so the world stopped wobbling around him, and tried his hardest not to pass out. 

Three bodies were on the ground in front of him; not dead, just unconscious. The cops would be here soon to pick them up, always fifteen minutes late to the action. Eugene found himself trusting cops less and less these days. He'd leave right now if his head wasn't pounding the way it was. Maybe he'd take a quick nap before the cops arrived. Just two minutes, then he'd go. 

"Hey," a voice said, jerking Eugene back into nauseating, loud reality. 

He really, really hoped that voice didn't belong to who he thought it belonged to.

"Hey, Spidey," the voice said again, and Eugene opened his eyes. His worst suspicions were confirmed instantly when he recognized the figure kneeling in front of him, masked face too close for comfort. "You're not dead, are you?"

The voice sounded both concerned and amused, and Eugene shut his eyes again, shaking his head. This was the last thing he needed right now. He struggled to find words for a second, head swimming. "I'm fine. Just got hit in the head. I'll be out of here in a second, and you should probably go too, otherwise the cops'll--"

"Fuck the police," Deadpool replied. His voice had its usual distinctive, charming drawl that Eugene probably would have found attractive on any other person. But the molasses-slow way that Deadpool strung his words together was a chilling antithesis to the lightning-quick way he did everything else, from mercenary murders to rapid joking banter. Eugene knew better than to fall for that voice. "You're bleedin' real bad, Spidey. Need me to carry you?"

"Please god no," Eugene exhaled in one breath, but before he'd finished talking he was already being lifted up off the ground. He didn't have the energy to complain, so he half-heartedly moved his arms around Deadpool's shoulders, attempting to hold on. The motion aggravated the wound on his head again, and Eugene moaned in pain against Deadpool's chest. This had not been how he'd pictured his own death.

Deadpool adjusted Eugene in his arms more snugly, carrying him bridal-style. "You wanna tell me your address so I can take you home?"

The pulsing sensation that had made Eugene collapse in the first place had returned, except now a better word for it might be throbbing. Phosphenes were flickering in and out of existence, red and yellow tiny warning lights behind his eyelids. "It's six," Eugene started to explain, and struggled to remember the next number of his apartment.

Deadpool looked down at the superhero, and frowned as Eugene's grip went slack on his shoulder. "Uh. Six  _what_."

Promptly, without any warning whatsoever, Eugene passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

When he came to, the cold alleyway was gone, as were the people he'd been fighting. Instead of stone walls or sirens wailing, Eugene woke up to a soft pillow under his head and a blanket tucked in around him.

The walls and furniture were covered in mismatched decor, every single pattern clashing. Some pop song Eugene hadn't heard was playing in the other room of wherever he was. It didn't feel like an ambush, but it was still disconcerting to wake up on a strange couch in an unfamiliar, empty apartment.

Eugene realized with a start his mask was gone, and he panicked, kicking the blanket off. Thankfully he was still in the rest of his suit, even if his secret identity had been compromised.

He tried to put two and two together, but came up with zero memory of where he was or how he'd come to be here. Something about the apartment smelled familiar-- it was the cloying scent of something sickly sweet, he realized a moment later. Maybe honey; but no, it had more character than honey. Eugene frowned, pursing his lips. Maybe some kind of syrup...

With a flash, it hit him. Maple syrup. Which meant pancakes. Which meant  _Deadpool_.

He didn't remember how he'd gotten to what must be the mercenary's apartment, but there was no doubt in Eugene's mind about the need to leave immediately. He pushed himself up to sit, but the second he moved his head, a searing pain shot through him, rendering him immobile. A loud groan escaped him.

The music shut off, and Deadpool's familiar mask peeked through the open doorway to the other room. "Spidey-Man! You're up! How you feelin', baby boy?"

"What did you do?" Eugene demanded. He lay back down slowly, not wanting to hurt his head any more. His eyes stayed on Deadpool, though, taking in his casual but weird appearance. What kind of kidnapper wore a lacy apron  _over_  his superhero suit in the comfort of his own home?

"I didn't do anything," Deadpool replied, sounding wounded by the accusation. Eugene didn't feel a single ounce of pity for him. "Except carry you all the way back here from downtown, and tend to your injury all night, and make you breakfast in bed."

"You... what?" Eugene hesitated, and okay. Maybe an  _ounce_  of pity. "I've been out all night? What happened to my head?"

"Excellent genetics, I'm guessin'," Deadpool leered. "Or maybe cosmetic surgery. I mean, nobody's that fine naturally--"

"Deadpool," Eugene interrupted, eyes narrowing to slits. "Why does my head feel like you cut it open?"

"I didn't," Deadpool said. He stepped out from the kitchen fully, and crossed his arms. He was holding a spatula, which explained the presence of the syrup smell if not the reason behind it. "I didn't touch a hair on your head, Spidey, hand to god. Except to move your hair around and wipe out blood and bandage it up, so I guess technically I did touch a hair on your head. But I'm not the one who gave you that concussion."

"Oh," Eugene said, still struggling to remember. "It was those guys," he continued uncertainly, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he tried to replay the scene. He remembered the fight, the blow to his head, the hands lifting him up...

Eugene opened his eyes, staring at Deadpool. "You brought me here."

"Yep," Deadpool drawled. Eugene would bet all five bucks in his bank account that Deadpool had a massive shit-eating grin behind his mask. "Glad to see you're up to speed, baby boy."

"That's not," Eugene began, and shook his head. Deadpool's incessant flirting had practically become a permanent fixture in his life at this point, and even if it sometimes got to Eugene more than he wanted to admit, he could deal with it. He abandoned the complaint altogether. "You mentioned something about breakfast?"

"In bed," Deadpool said, wiggling his hips. "Wait right there, Spidey. Don't move a muscle."

Obediently, Eugene didn't move from his spot. He closed his eyes and pulled the blanket back over himself, moving his legs to leave enough room for Deadpool to sit. A clock somewhere in the apartment ticked through a minute and a half until Eugene lost count, closing his eyes again. He didn't exactly trust Deadpool, but the merc had made him a very comfortable set-up; and if what Deadpool had said about tending to his bleeding concussion all night was true, then perhaps he'd earned a little gratefulness.

Eugene wasn't sure if he drifted off or just zoned out, but either way he was roused from his rest by the noise of a fork clanging against the floor. "Oh, fuck me," Deadpool said, and bent over to grab the fork, balancing the platter with his other hand. 

Eugene opened his eyes just in time to see Deadpool's ass clearly outlined in the suit, and quickly shut his eyes again, feeling heat spread over his cheeks. When he slowly dared to open his eyes again, Deadpool was sitting at the other end of the couch, tray of food in his lap. Eugene nudged his shoulder with his toe, smiling. "This isn't breakfast in bed. It's breakfast on couch. You lied."

"Picky fuckin' princess," Deadpool snarked back at him, and tossed a blueberry at him. He missed completely; given Deadpool's literal killer aim, that suggested to Eugene that he hadn't been trying to hit him at all. 

He flushed a little more at the thought, and Deadpool, to his great chagrin, noticed. "Oh, phew, there's the colour coming back into your cheeks! When I pulled off your mask, you were white as a fuckin' ghost. It scared the piss outta me." Deadpool tilted his head to the side, considering Eugene. Eugene shrunk down a little under his gaze. "Was it because I called you princess?"

" _No_ ," Eugene said quickly. He braced himself for the pain and then slowly pushed himself up to sit, feet moving down to the ground. "I'm concussed, leave me be."

"Sure thing, Spidey," Deadpool agreed easily. "We can discuss your kinks later." He handed Eugene the platter of food which, quite frankly, looked just as enticing as Deadpool's ass, if not even more. There were the typical pancakes drowning in maple syrup (the genuine Canadian kind, Eugene had no doubt). Next to them were strips of bacon, eggs fucking  _Benedict_ , and a small bowl of fresh fruit that apparently doubled as ammunition.

Eugene only realized he'd spaced out staring at the Hollandaise sauce when Deadpool spoke. "Do you have an allergy or something? If you're gonna throw up, tell me." 

His tone was joking, but the last thing Eugene wanted to do was offend the person who had brought him this glorious meal. "Oh my god, no," he said, reaching for the tray. "This is gourmet. Is your secret identity a chef or something? Jesus Christ." Eugene grabbed a piece of bacon and shoved it gracelessly into his mouth, closing his eyes and swallowing. He hadn't realized how ravenous he was until two minutes ago. "Is this maple bacon?"

"Maple turkey bacon," Deadpool corrected him, laughing. "I ain't a chef, just a gourmand. When you mostly eat at home, you find out what you like and what you don't-- and I know how to make what I like."

Eugene cut into the eggs Benedict, knife sliding through the English muffin as easily as if it were butter. He watched the yolk spill out over the avocado slice, and his stomach audibly growled. "Oh my god," he repeated faintly, and dug in.

"I didn't know what you liked," Deadpool said, pride seeping into his words as he watched Eugene devour his way through the eggs, then the bacon and pancakes, and grab the occasional fruit as well. "So the eggs are vegetarian, and I just put the bacon there in case you wanted meat. And the fruit is vegan, technically, if you don't eat the lemon yogurt at the bottom. I looked up best post-concussion foods while you were sleeping, and they said blueberries and avocados and real maple syrup all help. Too much sugar isn't good, but there's no way I was making you pancakes without makin' 'em sugary as fuck."

Eugene reached up to wipe off his mouth with the back of his hand, and remembered just in time that he was still wearing his suit. He opted to lick his lips clean instead, and Deadpool watched him, eyes trained on the motion of his tongue. Eugene felt the heat of Deadpool's vision on his mouth, and he swallowed, throat going dry.

"I'll grab you a napkin," Deadpool replied, voice hoarse.

Eugene felt himself blushing once more. "No, I can grab it, you've done enough--"

"Stay," Deadpool instructed, and leaned in to pat Eugene's shoulder. Eugene was intensely aware of the distance between where his suit ended and his neck was visible, and he stayed still, sort of hoping Deadpool would reach up and touch his throat or face or... do something.

He didn't do something, just pulling his hand away after patting Eugene twice. "Stay," he repeated, voice a little softer. "Don't want you to strain yourself."

Eugene also didn't want that, so he nodded uncertainly and went back to eating. Deadpool got up, heading to the kitchen. Eugene was hyperconscious of the sticky corner of his mouth, and licked at it again as he watched Deadpool walk away. The lacy apron was completely open in the back, and Eugene thought privately that he wouldn't mind seeing Deadpool in nothing but that apron.

But he'd never seen an inch of Deadpool's skin, let alone any part of his naked body. Eugene hummed softly, thinking about Deadpool carrying him around the city, how he'd tended to his wound all night. Had Deadpool taken care of himself at all? He hadn't even had a bite of Eugene's breakfast. It was debatable that Eugene would have shared anyway, but he hadn't even asked.

Deadpool came back from the kitchen, carrying a wad of hot pink napkins. Eugene took one, noticing the  _Happy 5th Birthday_  design with amusement. "These yours?"

"They were on sale," Deadpool replied without a trace of shame. "Great for cleaning up blood."

"I bet," Eugene said, wondering if they had been used to clean up his blood last night. He wiped his mouth, dabbing at the syrup until he felt clean. "Have you eaten at all?"

"Yeah, I ate this morning," Deadpool said, nodding. "Plus I ate about half the pancake batter, so don't you worry about me, doll."

Eugene pointedly ignored the endearment. "Have you  _slept_  at all?"

"Uh--" Deadpool reached up to scratch at the back of his masked neck. "I took a nap last night, but mostly I've been checking on you. Didn't want my favourite friendly neighbourhood arachnid to bleed out on my couch because I was lazy and forgot to check on you."

"You can sleep now," Eugene offered. "If you want to."

"Can I sleep with you?" came the nearly instant reply. 

Really, Eugene should have seen that one coming. "No."

"Then nah," Deadpool replied. He adjusted himself on the couch, stretching his full body out. Eugene couldn't help but watch breathlessly. "I'll pass out in a few hours. Besides, I like to be nocturnal. Night time is prime crime time, Spidey. Thought a superhero like you would know that better than anyone." 

Eugene wasn't sure what possessed him to correct Deadpool, but he cleared his throat and said, "Eugene."

Deadpool turned to look at Eugene. "Uh. 'Scuse me?"

"Eugene Sledge," he said, and tipped his head slightly. "You can call me Eugene." Sledge was a fine name, and if Eugene had to go by it someday then he would with no issues, but there was a certain rotten feeling that crawled up his throat every time someone called him Mr. Sledge, or worse, mistook him for Dr. Sledge.

Deadpool watched him curiously. Eugene wished, not for the first time, that he could see through Deadpool's mask to decipher his expression. "Well, alright, Eugene. I'll call you that."

Eugene fidgeted a little, and moved the tray off his lap, setting it down on the coffee table. "You gonna tell me your name?"

After a minute of silence, Deadpool deadpanned back, "Merriell Shelton."

Eugene stared at Merriell, wondering if it was a joke he didn't understand. It seemed strange that someone as cavalier and energetic as Deadpool would have a name that sounded like it belonged to a side character in some period drama. "Merriell?"

"Eugene?" Merriell mocked him back, and Eugene turned a little pink.

"No, I-- it's a nice name. It's pretty." For a magical elf, maybe. 

"You don't have to call me Mer, don't worry," Merriell said, even though the way he pronounced the nickname  _Mer_  kind of made Eugene want to call him that. "Snafu is fine."

"Snafu," Eugene repeated in disbelief. "What does that mean?"

"Situation Normal: All F'ed Up," Snafu spelled out, and ah, yes, that definitely sounded more like a name that fit Deadpool. "It's an old nickname from my military days; back before I became a monstrosity."

"You're not a monster," Eugene brushed aside the monstrosity comment, not liking Snafu's self-deprecation but more curious about the time in his life he'd just mentioned. "Wait, you were in the military?"

"In some timelines," Snafu grinned. "But yeah, Snafu works. Unless you want to call me daddy. That works too."

"Ha-ha," Eugene said, and hit Snafu in the side with his elbow. Given the whole unable-to-die thing and Eugene's concussion, it probably hurt him more than it hurt Snafu, but it was worth the effort. "Okay, Snafu. What do I have to do to get you to take a nap?"

"I mean, if you wanna cuddle," Snafu said, and lewdly waggled his eyebrows behind his mask. 

Eugene considered for a moment kicking Snafu off the couch, but his better nature kicked in (or maybe his gayer nature) and instead he leaned back, slowly resting his head against the pillow. He left ample room between himself and the couch cushions, and reached for the blanket.

Snafu stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "You want to cuddle."

"I want you to sleep," Eugene corrected him.

"You want to sleep snuggled up to me."

"You look very warm." Eugene pulled the blanket over himself. Snafu still didn't move. "Come here."

"You're delirious," Snafu diagnosed.

Eugene kicked him in the thigh lightly. "Come  _here_ , Merriell."

Snafu hesitated for another moment, and then moved towards Eugene, sliding in between Eugene and the couch and letting one arm wrap around Eugene's side to keep him from falling off. "Man, when you get better, you're gonna be so mad at me for taking advantage of your damaged state like this, baby boy."

"You're not taking advantage of shit," Eugene said, and moved the blanket so it fell over both of them. He turned to face Snafu, eyeing the Deadpool mask with trepidation. "Also, since you took my mask off without asking, can I do the honours?"

"No way," Snafu replied, hand pulling Eugene in closer anyway. "I already gave you my name and a hint of my tragic backstory, Eugene. That's more than enough for one day."

"So I can take it off tomorrow?" Eugene asked, raising an eyebrow. He smirked when Snafu didn't answer at first, and then frowned when no answer came at all. Eugene didn't believe for a second that Snafu had actually fallen asleep, despite how still he was lying there. 

Eugene slowly leaned in and pressed a kiss to Snafu's masked lips. He didn't bother to rush, taking his time to kiss Deadpool and then pulling away. "Night, Snafu."

Closing his eyes and letting the pain slowly ebb away, Eugene smiled softly and lost himself in pleasant thoughts for some time. He had almost drifted off when he suddenly felt lips against his, parted just enough to make something in Eugene's chest throb with sudden desire. Their second kiss ended as quickly as their first one had.

"Sweet dreams, Eugene."


End file.
